Built on Squares
by taketothesky
Summary: Ron and Hermione are married and living in Muggle London. Ron's having trouble adapting to Muggle things, as proven by his misadventures with the microwave oven. They're both willing to sacrifice to make it work. In the end it's perfect, and they both kno


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Built on Squares

She'd insisted on moving to Muggle London, and he had no choice but to allow her that. He was finding it very hard to get used to. For his entire life he'd been surrounded by trees and chickens and garden gnomes. Now all he saw when he looked out his windows were taxis, concrete and street lamps. His house used to be so full of noise and so full of people. Now the tiniest sound echoed in the empty apartment and bounced off the mismatched furniture. Car horns made noise all through the night and the occasional siren would wake him with a start. They didn't bother her in the least. She slept through it all, but he missed the crickets and frogs in his backyard. He missed having a backyard period. It was always either too cold or too hot, and their apartment was a bit cramped.

But this is the way she wanted to live, and he'd do anything for her.

He'd almost put his foot down when she dragged him into stores and demanded Muggle appliances. He couldn't understand for the life of him what one was supposed to do with a microwave. They'd taken it home and pulled it out of the box. Hermione plugged it into the wall and began pressing buttons. Ron was mesmerized by the light on the inside, and the tray rotating in the middle. He enjoyed placing things in it and watching them spin. He didn't really like popcorn, but he cooked it anyway, just to watch it go round and to listen the popping noises as the bag slowly inflated. One day while his wife was gone, he placed leftovers covered with tin foil on the spinning tray. He sat down backwards on a kitchen chair and very carefully selected five minutes on the number pad. He'd sit and wait patiently for the little digital numbers to count down, wait for that satisfying moment when they'd disappear and be replaced with a cheerful green "enjoy your meal" accompanied by the noisy beeping that always drove her mad.

Today something different happened as he sat entirely too close to the machine (something his wife had told him was messing with his brain). He watched the glass bowl spin for a few moments, then he noticed the sparks, and he should have known there was something wrong. But Ron didn't know there was anything wrong, so he just sat there continuing to watch. Eventually his common sense caught up to him and something told him that he should probably unplug the microwave, or in the very least hit the stop button. The smell of something burning filled his nose and made him cough and blink.

Blindly he reached for the plug an pulled it out of the wall, but not before the sparks had ignited and started a small electrical fire in the back of the microwave. He was pretty sure now that his leftovers were ruined, as the window in the microwave door had turned totally black. Hermione had taught him how to use a Muggle fire extinguisher just in case something like this happened. And so, totally forgetting that he could conjure infinite amounts of water out of his wand, he tried his hand with another Muggle contraption. He'd put the fire out, and from the looks of it he'd tried to put the couch out, too, because that's where most of the fire extinguisher ended up. How, he wasn't sure, and if you asked him, he'd tell you that the bloody thing had a mind of its own.

She came home from work to find him asleep on the couch and covered in the contents of the fire extinguisher. She thought he was dead, and it terrified her so badly she nearly passed out right there in the doorway. However, she found her legs and walked over to him, and realized that he was indeed breathing. Slapping him lightly on the face, she whispered to herself.

"Oh Merlin, Ron, what on earth have you done? We're going to have to replace the couch." 

Something she was quite happy about, as the couch on which Ron was sprawled out had been bothering her since they moved in. Ron woke up and explained what happened, then he asked what was for dinner. They laughed together and she helped him up from the couch. The empty fire extinguisher was left in the middle of the living room while Ron took a shower and Hermione changed clothes. Their kitchen was in no state for cooking, and they were in no state for cleaning. So they would go down to the little restaurant on the corner of their street and order a bottle of wine and the same meal they always had.

He was very close to being ready to go. He just needed to tie his left shoe and put on his coat. Hermione was dressed and looking just as beautiful as the day he'd married her. Her arms crossed, she waited by the door as patiently as she could. He took so long to get dressed, she constantly told him he was slower than any woman she'd ever known, and that was saying something, because she had roomed with Parvati and Lavender. He smiled at her as she rolled her eyes. Her hair still bushy, her stance still weighed down with now invisible books, she did look lovely with that trademark look of "Ron-hurry-up" on her face. He was just looping the laces on his shoe when another of her favorite Muggle things started making noise.

"Hello?"

"Hi, mum."

"You'll never believe what Ron did today."

"Yes, I'm going to get a new couch."

  
"Really? Tell me all about it…"

Ron had finished tying his shoe quite a few minutes ago. He'd gotten up and put on his coat, taking her place by the door, his arms now crossed. Occasionally he would point at his watch and tell her to hurry, but she just waved it aside. He'd given up and sat down on the edge of their bed watching her walking back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. She was in danger of strangling herself with the phone cord. Hermione had detailed the microwave incident, and had even explained that she and Ron had plans for dinner, but still she was on the phone. 

He flopped back on the bed and studied a moving picture of their wedding day sitting on their bedside table. The wedding had been surprisingly simple. Many people expected doves and a dress train miles long, but they had gone the more minimal route. He watched himself lift her up and swirl her around, both smiling brightly. He wondered how the girl in that picture had turned into the thing that snapped at him when he was slow, but could stand for a half an hour talking on the phone after the fact. She'd launched into an entirely different topic now, and he covered his face with a pillow and silently dared her to call him insensitive. Somewhere in the distance, past the pillowcase that smelled like her shampoo, he thought he heard a click.

She flopped down on the bed beside him and stole his pillow. Then she began to hit him with and tell him to get up you lazy prat, and take me to dinner. He looked at his watch and she glanced at the clock on the bedside table. They both decided it was much too late to go out for dinner. Especially on a Thursday, or maybe today was Tuesday. Who was keeping track of such a trivial thing? The hastily thrown on clothes were just as hastily thrown off and they decided to have breakfast instead.

Then, she said, they would buy a new couch.

And buy that new couch they did. After they woke up that morning, and both took their time getting ready. The smell of burnt electrical equipment still lingered around them. They would have opened a window, but it was raining. And besides, there were delicate spider webs attached to the glass window pane, shimmering in the morning drizzle, and Ron wouldn't go anywhere near them. He half-heartedly suggested coffee, but they both glanced into the kitchen and decided not to risk it. Still not wanting to clean, they went out in search for a new sofa.

It was grey outside, and maybe a little blue. Anything but yellow and sunny. He wished they could have stayed in bed all day and perhaps snuggled, or read the _Daily Prophet_. He almost missed having Crookshanks climb in between the two of them, refusing to let them touch each other before he got the proper attention. Instead he was being dragged from furniture gallery to furniture gallery looking at sofas that were entirely too expensive. Her hair was frizzy from the rain, which was saying quite a lot, considering the fact that it was frizzy all the time. Ron walked quietly down the sidewalk beside her, studying the strange things Muggles had to offer. Occasionally she would grab him by the elbow and make him peer into shop windows.   


"It's nice," he would say.

"Of course it will match."

"Yes, it looks very comfortable."

By noon she had chosen one, a very large burgundy one, and he suspected it had something to do with the Gryffindor in her blood. She'd found it in a tiny store several miles from their house. He told her to just charm it home, but she argued that it might seem a little odd to the clerk if two people carried a couch home on their own. The company would deliver it that afternoon. In the meantime they could go home and clean up the mess he made in the kitchen.

"And have hot chocolate?" he asked.

"And have hot chocolate," she answered.

They went home and he made the old couch disappear with a wave of his wand. She went into the kitchen to assess the damage Ron had caused the day before. A muttered _Reparo_ later and the microwave was back in working order. She did a few things with magic, but old Muggle habits die hard. So she called Ron into the kitchen where she was running hot water into the sink. She poured soap into the water and stuck her hands in amongst the dishes. They would chat and listen to music while she cleaned the dirty plates and glasses. She'd hand them over to him, very carefully so they wouldn't be broken, and he'd dry them on a soft towel.

"Honestly, if you would clean every once in a while," she said, and when she had her back turned, Ron grabbed the spray nozzle from the sink and absolutely soaked her. She shrieked and squeezed yellow-lemon-scented dish liquid all over his jumper and into his hair. He grabbed her around the middle and she laughed. He laughed with her and they danced into the living room while the cat watched, thoroughly unimpressed.

They collapsed onto the floor where the couch used to be, grinning up at the ceiling. She'd wanted a new couch for a while, but in that empty space of carpet, Ron couldn't help but think that they didn't really need a couch. Just fine like it was, laying on the carpet and listening to the rain beat on the windows and the quiet Muggle music in the background. Crookshanks wandered over purring loudly in their ears. He stepped between them and rubbed his nose on Hermione's face, leaving Ron a view that was not altogether pleasing. When she giggled he knew she thought that they didn't need a new couch either.

But the couch arrived anyway, and it was to fill that perfect space on the floor. Or some perfect space Hermione was sure existed. She bossed around Ron and the two delivery men (who were very confused because this woman was soaking wet and the fellow, he smelled like soapy lemons) for the rest of the afternoon, demanding that they slide it a little more to the left…no, her left…no, the other left. The couch didn't look right underneath the window (and anyway, he was scared of the spiders), and you had to be able to see the fireplace from it. Eventually the delivery men gave up, stating that it was time for them to knock off anyway. One of them clapped Ron on the shoulder and wished him luck with that one.

She still wasn't satisfied, and for twenty minutes after the professionals left, he pushed the couch all around the living room until she gasped and said don't you move it another inch. Are you sure? Yes, I'm sure. And he collapsed onto his new couch, feeling he'd earned the right to. She yelled at him, "Ron, get your shoes off of my new sofa!" He stuck his tongue out at her and the phone rang. Looking annoyed she went into the kitchen to answer it. He closed his eyes and listened for her to say hello. Whatever else she said drifted into his subconscious as Crookshanks jumped heavily onto the couch and claimed his new scratching post.

Later, he wasn't sure how much later, but it was dark outside, she tapped him on the shoulder and shoved a mug of hot chocolate into his hands. He slid over to make room for her beside him. She'd brought a blanket, now she was draping it over the two of them. He kicked his shoes off and they got as close to each other as they could.

"I like this couch," he told her.

"It's very comfortable, don't you think?"

"Hmm."

"Ron, don't spill the hot chocolate."

"Whatever you say, Hermione."

He sat the mug of chocolate down on the coffee table and wrapped his arms around her. He looked into the kitchen, perfect sparkling clean. He noticed the phone was no longer plugged in and the entire apartment was being illuminated by the fireplace and light coming through the windows. He hugged her more tightly.

"Thank you," he whispered into her ear.

"Whatever you say, Ron. Just no more tin foil in the microwave, please."

"I promise."

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Author's Note: Hmm, you're probably wondering where I got the title, right? It's just random and it doesn't mean anything, but you clicked on it, so that must count for something, eh? My first ever Ron/Hermione (gosh, can't you tell?). I think the story is a little weird, but I like it.

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Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, I only own the plot (and tell me if you found it, because I was at a total lost). No copyright infringement intended and no money being made.


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